Star Wars: A Better Future
by Scriptomancer
Summary: I'm sure I'm not the only one who hated the Yuuzhan Vong story arc that nearly ruined the entire franchise. Let's just assume that the invasion never occurred, along with any other small liberties I may have taken in various details that no one notices.


The saga begins...

Name: Orn Tarcona

Race: Twi'lek

Gender: Male

Age: Unknown

Occupation: Majordomo for Rakka the Hutt

Homeworld: Ryloth

[Yaga Minor: Wilderness]

Orn Tarcona resisted the urge to fondle his itching lekku; such indulgences were best saved for private, away from the dull-eyed and dim-witted Gamorreans who now surrounded him. The herd, as he tended to think of them, held blasters and battle axes as they stood in a semi-circle around him. They made an effective wind barricade, but their stench was awful. Tarcona would almost rather freeze to death in the frigid winds of Yaga Minor. He awaited the emissary of Moff Kurlen Fennic, who appeared to be late for the rendezvous. He himself was the majordomo for Rakka the Hutt and stood as his lord's representative to this cabal of powers. Tarcona was about to call it off and return to Ord Mantell, home of Rakka's kajidic, Hutt syndicate. His master was young for a Hutt, but his ambition made up for his youth. He could be sure this meeting would only prove that.

Before the Gamorrean stench became too overwhelming, a freighter came down from the misty sky and landed nearby. A squad of Stormtroopers shuttled from the freighter and fanned out to match the positions of Tarcona's Gamorrean guards.

"It's about time, messenger," Tarcona chided in Twi'lek. "I was beginning to think you had lost your way." He smiled a sharp, toothy grin, reveling in the moff's emissary struggling to translate his words into Basic, only to realize the implied insult.

"Yes, quite right," the Imperial officer said. "If you would all come this way." He turned crisply on his heel and marched back into the freighter.

The freighter lifted off and drifted through the air in a short ride to the industrial area of Yaga Minor. Tarcona looked around and noted the discomfort of the Stormtroopers who stood in such close proximity to his Gamorreans; the cargo hold was tight. After Supreme Commander Pellaeon's peace treaty with the New Republic, it seems Moff Fennic didn't want to risk appearing treasonous or warmongering. After a short flight, the freighter descended into a warehouse facility and landed in the midst a dark expanse over a dimly lit floor. The Stormtroopers and Gamorreans vacated the cargo hold, eager for a chance to regain breathing room. Tarcona walked dominantly between the mixed guards alongside the Imperial officer toward a third party who awaited them.

"You're late," said a gruff voice.

"Note that I was quite punctual," interjected a nearby protocal droid.

"Yes, let it be known the New Republic traitor's toy was timely present in his place," sneered the Imperial officer.

"Bite not the hand that feeds you," the darkly cloaked stranger chided. "The traitor, as you call him, is perhaps the cleverest of us all. Notice that he has the upper hand at the moment, inasmuch as identities go."

"And what shall I tell my master, who has the audacity to throw in his name with this lot," Tarcona asked impatiently.

The darkly cloaked man raised his chin, revealing a scarred human visage. "Tell him the Sith shall rise again."

* * *

Name: Mitth'eth'nuruodo (Heth for short)

Race: Chiss

Gender: Male

Occupation: Jedi Master

Age:49

Homeworld: Nar Shadaa

[Yavin 4: Jedi Praxeam]

"The situation being as it may, I still don't think it's a good idea," Kyle Katarn said in address to the other Jedi Council members.

"What else shall we do?" asked Kam Solusar. "Even with the peaceful commerce existing between the Imperial Remnant and the New Republic, we cannot ignore the rising tide of criminal activity."

"And with the demise of the galaxy-wide Black Sun organization, you'd think it would be otherwise," Mara Jade shot in.

"I agree with Master Katarn," said Master Heth in his grisly Chiss voice. "Discretion is the best choice at the moment."

"Discretion for what?" Corran Horn asserted. "The Hutt capital world of Nal Hutta has underwent serious political shifting in the past several months, and the result has been an undeniable surge in underworld activities."

"With an eerie silence from the Imperial Moffs," Solusar added.

"And what's wrong with that?" asked the Mon Calamari Cilghal. "I should think that a good thing, given the Bastion Accords."

Solusar shrugged. "Old suspicions die hard."

"Yet the day may come when they must," Grandmaster Skywalker said, finally breaking his silence and ending the deliberation. "The Imperial Remnant has honored its end of the bargain, and as agents of the New Republic, we must also honor ours. The day may come when Jedi are welcome in Imperial Space, but until that time, we must walk circumspectly. However, the nature of the crime wave's upsurge is disturbing." Turning to the Chiss, he continued. "Master Heth, I sense you are aware of whom I speak."

Heth's glowing red eyes were offset by his blue skin. He looked Luke dead in the face and said, "As if there was any doubt amongst us. The terrible Rakka is no doubt at the center of it."

"You witnessed firsthand the next generation of Hutt brutality," Luke said. "With the fall of notable criminals such as Jabba, Xizor, and Czethros, whose capture sealed the fate of the Black Sun Syndicate, as well as the retirement of infamous smuggling operations as Talon Karrde," Luke gave a loving glance at his wife, Mara, who had served under Karrde long ago. "I can only imagine the Hutts being the center point. But, beware-there are surely other forces at work here."

"Sith."

Heth wasn't sure who had said it, but the word made his skin crawl. "Rakka is Force-sensitive," Heth said. Most of the Council was already aware.

"The dark side has been far from dormant," Luke said. Memories of the Reborn and the Disciples of Ragnos cult were fresh in their minds. "But if the Sith have indeed risen again, I sense Rakka will have a lead if nothing else. Therefore, I propose an official commission for Jedi investigation of Rakka."

"Seconded," Solusar piped in immediately.

"And who shall go?" Luke looked around, yet all eyes fell on Heth.

"So be it," Heth said reluctantly. "I shall select a group."

[Yavin 4: Jedi Praxeam]

"Greetings, Master Heth."

The Chiss looked to the corner of the storage room to see Kyp Durron at a work bench with his lightsaber spread out in pieces. Heth nodded at the Jedi Knight. "Having trouble with your lightsaber?" he asked.

Kyp chuckled. "No, Master, it's fine. I'm just calibrating the new crystal I obtained."

"Oh?" Heth said, prolonging the coming conversation with a bit of small talk. "And what does this new crystal feature?"

"A new color," Kyp said with a shrug as he grunted a plate into place around the hilt. "Done." He activated the beam, which flashed into view with a _snap-hiss_ and a blue hue.

"All that trouble just for a change in color?" Heth asked.

Kyp turned pensive. "Sometimes an outward change best marks an inward one. Blue is more. . . peaceful."

Heth knew Kyp's troubled past, the vestiges of which held him back from promotion to Master. Perhaps he was at last learning control over his rampant feelings and would excel beyond the rank of Knight. All things in their time. "Grandmaster Luke has commissioned an investigation into Rakka the Hutt's syndicate," Heth finally said.

Examining his lightsaber with silent pride, Kyp pretended not to hear, but Heth saw the young Knight tense, felt him calm his zeal. Heth continued. "I elected to manage Jedi interest in this affair, but if my past concerning Rakka is of any consequence, I feel it would not be prudent to charge headlong into danger." Heth could tell Kyp did not precisely follow his line of reasoning, so he took a different route. "My first step will be third-party intelligence gathering. I'm going off-world for a time to meet with certain contacts, but I should return within the week. In that time, it's my wish for you to prepare a small squad of experienced apprentices-all volunteers-who will serve as a distraction abroad once I am ready to take more pro-active steps that may need to be hidden."

Kyp extinguished his lightsaber as he mulled over Heth's words. "You wish me to command a decoy unit?"

Heth suppressed a chuckle, then permitted a full laugh. "Yes."

Kyp sneered. "Is that all I am worth to the Council?"

"This isn't mandated by the Council. It's a personal request," Heth said gently, appealing to their friendship. "Besides, it is folly to underestimate a feint." Heth turned about without waiting for an answer. "I shall speak with you when I return."

[Yaga Minor: Industrial Sector]

The cabal was seated around a make-shift plasteel table. Though the droid preferred to stand to one side, it was not part and privy with the rest of the members.

"So it is understood that we represent our respective masters," the dark-cloaked man said with his hood covering most of his face.

"I should think that would be obvious," Tarcona mumbled under his breath.

"Admiral Pedon Callidus," the dark-cloaked man said. "Is it obvious to you that we represent our masters?"

The Imperial officer, an admiral, squared his jaw. "I know that I do."

Laughter escaped the lungs in a gritty explosion of ripping vocal cords. "So it is not obvious." He looked at Tarcona. The Twi'lek tried not to shrink under the scarred man's gaze, but with this first glimpse into the man's black eyes, Tarcona couldn't suppress a shiver. He hoped Rakka knew what he was doing.

"I am Darth Wraith," the scarred man proclaimed. "Lord of the Sith!" His craggy voice echoed throughout the warehouse, quivering Tarcona to the very bone. But Wraith lowered his voice to a whisper. "But I shall share with you a secret-I am not the Dark Lord; I am but an apprentice. As such, I am expendable should the plan be discovered; my master can return to hiding, but I cannot. This makes it personal." Without hesitation, he raised both hands as lightning shot from his mouth. Responding to his will, the Force carried a Gamorrean guard and a Stormtrooper forward and held them suspended overhead.

"Sacrifices must be made if we are to win, for blood is the price of victory." As he spoke, lightning crackled from his mouth and shot through and around the tormented figures in the air. With a dramatic wave of his hand, the Gamorrean and Stormtrooper were slammed onto the plasteel table from which Callidus and Tarcona had both backed away.

"These give their lives for our purpose!"

Darth Wraith waved his hands in the air, summoning red lightsabers out of the darkness which swung in an X pattern in step with his criss-crossed hands. The screams and squeals of the victims on the table were enough to deafen the ear. With the surgical strike finished, Darth Wraith grasped a levitating lightsaber with his right hand as the other saber seemingly extinguished itself and took refuge in the folds of his robe. "We accept this sacrifice," Darth Wraith said with head bowed. He raised his left index finger, the only finger remaining on that hand aside from the thumb. He moved his lightsaber through the digit, leaving a gnarled stub. The digit fell through the air and landed in the midst of the mutilated bodies on the table. Arm trembling, Darth Wraith motioned for Tarcona and Callidus to place their hands on the bloodied mess, which they eventually did. In demented solemnity, Darth Wraith placed his mutilated hand on Tarcona's and Calladius', thumb upward. "On this blood, we swear our pact of brotherhood and make good our oath to retake the galaxy and form it in our image!"

[_Starfire _freighter: Space]

Name: Tmu Tarakan

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 24

Occupation: Jedi Apprentice

Homeworld: Onderon

"Sorry I couldn't have been of better assistance."

Heth wryly smiled at the vid screen. "Worry not, Talon Karrde. I thank you for your time. Heth out." He deactivated the vid screen with the Force and leaned back in his chair.

"Any luck, Master Heth?" called Tmu Tarakan from the cockpit of the Starfire, Heth's dingy freighter.

"None thus far," Heth said to his apprentice. "Talon Karrde, Lando Calrissian, Director Rieekan; all the usual channels of New Republic Intelligence and business turned up nothing more than HoloNet common knowledge."

"What about Booster Terrik?" Tarakan suggested as he monitored the navcom.

Heth smiled at his apprentice. "I sent him a transmission before we left. Luke gave me the access codes to his ship, the _Venture_."

Tarakan mulled that over. "So are we going to meet him?"

"No. He is but a means to an end," Heth said as he stood up and joined his apprentice in the cockpit. "Terrik is a man of action. He deals not in information, but he does know people."

"People in Nar Shaddaa?" Tarak asked, referring to their destination.

"An old friend," Heth said quietly. "Booster should have the meeting already arranged."

[Nar Shaddaa]

Heth stooped through the make-shift marketplace on the open-roofed promenade of the landing area. Private vendors of every sort called out their alien banter. Tmu stared too long at a hyperdrive of unfamiliar design and earned a chiding glance from Heth. They were not to stand out to anyone. The transponder codes of the Starfire remained the same as they were decades ago when Heth stole the freighter from an illegal chop shop run by a Rodian who perished in the explosion Heth created to make good his escape. Many Jedi wondered why Heth kept such an ignoble heirloom of his past, but such things proved useful in situations like the one he found himself in. He could enter criminal territory without giving away his Jedi status-and if the Force was with them, it would remain that way.

He meandered through the crowd of aliens until he saw the brightly lit sign for the Snarling Gundart. The cantina was filled with memories for Heth, few of them pleasant.

"Master Heth, who are we meeting here?" Tmu whispered.

"A dangerous mercenary," Heth replied discreetly. "Best for you to stay near the door. We may need an exit."

"Your old friend may attack us?" Tmu asked with a raised brow.

Heth smirked. "Likely not-who can say-for there's no telling what may happen on Nar Shaddaa."

The two Jedi approached the door.

"No you enter," said the burly doorkeeper whose species was unfamiliar to Heth. The pair of large battle droids behind him stepped forward to protect their ward.

"We are thirsty and will buy many drinks," Heth said with a wave of his hand.

"You thirst and buy much drink," the doorkeeper agreed.

"Business will suffer if you bar our entry," Heth said firmly.

"Business go bad unless you enter. Quick, come inside!" the doorkeeper exclaimed as he waved the droids aside.

Heth and Tmu walked through the doors and nonchalantly mingled among the crowd.

"You must teach me to do that, Master," Tarakan said with awe.

"In time," Heth said pensively. "To use the Force on another requires discipline, lest you invite the dark side's seduction."

"But I am a servant of the light," Tmu protested. "The Force is my ally, and I wield it with honor."

"Until you wield it with humility, my apprentice you will remain," Heth chided. "Now, stay near the doors; we may need a quick exit."

Tarakan sulked toward the doors and leaned against the wall with arms crossed. Heth shook his head; the kid could not have been more obvious. With a subtle flick of the wrist, Heth gestured toward Tmu and Force pushed him onto a nearby bar stool. Heth gave his apprentice a knowing look before turning to assess the cantina dance floor. A band of Bith musicians cranked out a tune with professional Twi'lek girls spinning away to the music. In a booth to the side of the stage, Heth could see a figure seated who was unlike the other cantina patrons. Heth grabbed a drink from a passing waitress and shuffled to the music a bit, though his rhythm was pitiful. Loosing his footing, he fell sideways and headlong into the booth with the armored patron.

"You never did get tired of the fake drunk routine."

"I seemed to recall you enjoying it, Fasma." Heth smiled at the Mandalorian mercenary.

The Mandalorian was fully garbed in armor which hid all humanity behind an imposing shaded visage. "Not as much as I enjoyed watching your kath pup at the door."

Heth cringed. "He's still learning. Brilliant with encryption and an ace in the cockpit, but he wouldn't last a day here."

"Then why did you bring him?" Fasma asked.

"He's been cooped up in one ivory tower after another his entire life. It's time he walked among the riff raff."

Fasma scoffed. "Dainty nobleborn. I knew it. Bet he couldn't even hold his own."

"Try what you may," Heth warned. "He has studied saber training under me."

"All the more certainty to his demise," Fasma shot back.

Heth chuckled, conceding the victory to the Mandalorian. "Are you going to wear that helmet the whole time or do you bounty hunters not look friends in the face?"

"Afraid of the Mandalorian icon, Jedi?"

"Jedi don't hide behind masks," Heth said with a smirk.

Fasma shifted in the seat for a moment, then unhitched the helmet to reveal some ratted clumps which once were curly locks of auburn hair. "Happy, Jedi?" she asked with a wry smile.

"That depends if you can lend me aid," Heth said, folding his hands.

Fasma closed her eyes and smiled. "Down to business. What do you want this time, Heth?"

The Jedi Master paused for just a moment; this was the first time Fasma had used his name in their encounter. "What do you know of Rakka the Hutt's activities?"

"Other than he's been on the crest of the tide of change here on Nar Shaddaa?" Fasma cocked her head to the side as if recalling something unimportant. "The slug is bathing in credits from all sorts of businesses in multiple sectors."

"What businesses?" Heth asked, glad to be getting somewhere.

"Close your eyes and point. You'll likely find one that way, if you believe the rumors. You Jedi are good at that sort of thing anyhow," Fasma said with a wink. "Seriously, though, this worm is the next big thing. Rumor has it he's assimilated the remnants of Black Sun into his syndicate."

"Black Sun was obliterated by a joint Jedi and New Republic campaign," Heth said. "All of their agents were captured or killed."

Fasma laughed. "You Jedi; haven't you learned by now that nothing is gone forever? Rakka's majordomo himself is a former Black Sun agent. How he escaped the crackdown is beyond me; probably hid out on his backwater homeworld."

"Which is?" Heth asked.

"Bakura," Fasma said. "Or at least that's what he told me. Orn Tarcona isn't the most trustworthy individual, though."

"That's his name?" Heth asked in confirmation.

"The one he goes by," Fasma answered.

Heth felt a shift in the atmosphere. Fasma seemed at ease, but beneath her veneer of barbaric charm was a sea of anxiety.

"How do you know all this?" Heth asked firmly.

"I hear a lot in my travels; you know that, you contacted me," Fasma said abruptly.

"Fasma," Heth whispered. "Don't tell me. . ."

"Sorry, Heth," Fasma said as she tapped the underside of the table with her Mandalorian ripper. "Like I said-Rakka's bathed in credits."

Several Gamorreans surrounded the booth with battle axes upheld. Heth observed Fasma's disposition, noting her facial expression. "Is it a bounty?"

"Rakka has a bounty on any Jedi who come snooping around Nar Shaddaa, Nal Kreeta, Ord Mantell or anywhere else in Hutt Space."

Heth paused. Ord Mantell wasn't in Hutt space. He determined to remember that detail for future contemplation. Despite appearances, Fasma was on his side. "So what now?"

"Now you die!"

Everyone looked to see Tmu Tarakan leaping into the fray, cutting down the outermost Gamorrean before anyone could react.

"Foolish," Heth muttered.

"Ahhh!" Tmu shouted as he fell to the ground, a proud Rodian standing behind him with a stun stick.

"Stupid Jedi," the Rodian said.

"Nova," Fasma said.

"What?" the Rodian asked, the de facto leader of the gangster crew.

Heth knew what the Mandalorian meant. She had signaled one of the many tricks they had used together in their past gallivanting. He had but a moment.

"Die, Jedi scum!" Fasma screamed as she tossed a thermal detonator in the air.

"Run!" the Gamorreans screamed, trampling the Rodian.

Heth grabbed Tmu through the Force and pulled him onto the booth as Fasma depressed a hidden switch which rotated the booth into the wall. Surrounded by darkness, Heth tensed himself and prepared for the imminent shock wave.

_BOOM!_

The hidden room rattled with the explosion which cracked the wall from the other side. Muffled screams found their way through the plasteel wall.

"I'm sure they're fine," Fasma said brusquely as she slid out of the booth. "We have to move."

Heth held his hand on Tmu's face and grimaced himself as he pushed the Force through his apprentice, healing the shock trauma. In a moment, Tmu's eyes opened. "What happened?" he moaned.

"You were ambushed," Heth said gently, ignoring the scoffing snicker from Fasma. "We must move quickly; Fasma's ruse will not fool them indefinitely."

"Why shouldn't it?" Fasma asked as she admired her secret passage. "For all they know, we were vaporized in the explosion."

"Do not underestimate the clairvoyance a hefty bounty offers," Heth said. "Greed is a force unto itself."

Fasma considered his words and shrugged. "I don't have anything on this rock. Let's go."

"No ship?" Heth asked.

"Traded it for the thermal detonator," Fasma said with a sniff. "Don't feel special; it was a bucket of bolts, anyway. Lifted it from a thug I turned in to the Hutts."

"How are we going to get out of here?" Tmu interjected. "We sort of stand out."

"Don't worry, kid," Fasma barked. "This is a maintenance corridor which leads between all the buildings. We'll reach the starpad that way. You still got the Starfire, Heth? We'll just ride out on that. No one would suspect a Jedi would pilot that rust bucket."

Heth merely nodded and lead the way forward through he darkness. The other two fell into step behind him, all running as not to waste a moment.

"Ah, Jedi. I could be so fortunate."

Heth stopped. A raspy voice came from the darkness. His Chiss eyes searched, but could not discern anything.

_Snap-hiss_. A red lightsaber illuminated the dark corridor.

"The day shall be mine."

Heth's lightsaber was in his hand in an instant. Tmu followed suit. Fasma upheld her twin Mandalorian rippers. "Hold fire, Fasma," Heth said. Their enemy could likely deflect her bolts back at them. "Stand down, whoever you are," he barked.

Stark laughter filled the corridor. "Stand down? And why would I do that? You will be caught this day; the guards are alerted. They're almost here. Surrender and you will live."

"Nope," Fasma said. She opened fire on her veiled opponent. She dove forward and fired again, landed in a roll, unable to see him but juked sideways and kept firing in the direction of his lighstaber which managed to deflect every bolt. A few nearly grazed her, but she was fast enough to avoid them.

"Looking for me?" asked a voice in her ear. She suppressed panic as she realized the distant lightsaber was a ruse; her opponent was behind her and had his hands around her throat. She tried to elbow the man, but she couldn't find him anywhere. It was then she realized she was not held by hands.

"Jedi... help," she choked.

She felt a strain around her neck, although she could breath again. She stood to her feet, and the strain finally left. The attacker laughed again. Fasma ignited the light on her pistol and pointed it in his direction, illuminating him. A black-cloaked man stood before them. He gasped as a purple lightsaber flew through his chest. Heth recalled his saber through the Force, but not before the man grinned and vanished into nothingness.

"What was that?" Tmu asked in utter shock.

"A Force phantom," Heth said. "Someone skilled in the ways of the Force wanted to delay us." He recalled Rakka's Force sensitivity. Surely the Hutt had not progressed that far...

"No matter," Fasma said. "He's gone; let's get to the ship before any other surprises come our way."

Just then, a side door busted open and several thugs with blasters rained down on them. Heth and Tmu upheld their lightsabers and sent the laser bolts back at their attackers.

"No, I'll handle them," Fasma said. "Get to the ship. I'll catch up."

Tmu began to argue, but Heth tapped his shoulder and ran. "I can't believe we just left her," Tmu said after a few paces.

"Fasma can handle herself," Heth said. "But it will be for naught if we don't get the ship in the air."

They reached the _Starfire_ and fired up the engines.

Tmu looked down the hatch, waiting for Fasma to follow up. Blaster fire filled the corridor. "We have to go back!" he said.

Heth turned around in the co-pilot's seat. "Sit down and take us up."

Tmu bit his lip and nodded. He reached for the lever to close the hangar door.

"Leave it open!" Heth shouted. "Let's go!"

Tmu slid into the pilot's chair and raised the ship from the ground. The ship angled around and flew over the starpad before flying higher into the atmosphere. A look at the radar screen gave Tmu a warning. "Master, there seems to be a projectile headed our way."

"Indeed, there is," Heth quipped. "Look!"

Tmu turned around to see a rocket-propelled Fasma flying toward them, leaving a trail of smoke in her wake. She flew into the hangar at breakneck speed and crashed into a bulkhead. Heth closed the hangar with the Force. "Take us out and punch it!" the Chiss said to his apprentice.

Tmu locked the nav-coordinates into place and sent the freighter en route to Yavin 4.

Name: Fasma Bralor

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 29

Occupation: Mandalorian Mercenary/Bounty Hunter

Homeworld: Mandalore

[Ord Mantell: Rakka's Palace]

Name: Rakka Desilijic Ku'drek (Rakka the Hutt for short)

Race: Hutt

Gender: Male

Occupation: Kajidic Lord (gangster)

Age: 159

Homeworld: Nal Hutta

Orn Tarcona walked the extravagant length of the luxurious corridor connecting the twin spires of Rakka's sanctum sanctorum. The outer walls were lined with enriched alloys able to withstand all but a direct blast from an Imperial turbolaser. The shield generator and cloaking emitters would preclude any such danger, lending much security to their operations. For those bearing Rakka's disfavor, though, such security measures brought only foreboding and doom. Flanked by his entourage of armed Trandoshans, Tarcona wore hubris as an over-priced cape. As he approached the great double doors leading to Rakka's court, he could already hear the festivities within. He stopped and assumed his courage before entering. Deep down, he knew his arrogance was for nothing; Rakka was a harsh master, and what with his affinity to the accursed Force, his wrath could be quite lethal. Holding chin up, Tarcona stepped forward through the doors and into the fray.

Unlike most Hutts who considered obesity to be a measure of one's worth and power, Rakka demonstrated his superiority over his kin by the ability to physically out-maneuver them-something he had done recently, in fact. He was not the upcoming clan leader for nothing, his personal leanness not withstanding. For a Hutt, he was quite scrawny, but his physical strength was enough to overpower most beings, even without his Force prowess.

"Approach," Rakka decreed in Huttese. He sat atop a regular throne, as opposed to a typical lounge pad, further differentiating himself from Hutt tradition.

Tarcona stepped forward, signaling for his entourage to remain near the door-only the worthy came near Rakka, and the invitation was certainly singular.

"What news from Yaga Minor?" the Hutt mobster asked.

Tarcona stood tall. "Your allies say this: 'The Sith shall rise again.'"

Rakka let out a bellowing laugh that made his eyes bulge. His face became more solemn, as did his tone. "Surely that is not all?"

"We swore a most disturbing pact of brotherhood," Tarcona said. He paused for a moment, then added, "Moff Kurlen Fennic via his emissary, Admiral Pedon Callidus, has promised to propose a crackdown on every smuggling operation not part of your kajidic, my lord. This is in exchange for shifting our operations to provide an influx of credits on the black market in Imperial space while retaining our seedier developments within Republic space. So long as the New Republic bears the criminal burden and the Imperial Remnant reaps the benefit, the Imperials will cut off your opposition."

Rakka mumbled approval in Huttese, and Tarcona nearly felt sure of himself until the mob boss moved to his next line of questioning. "And what of the Jedi?"

Tarcona grinned, although he felt himself enter dangerous territory. He spoke slowly. "It seems the bounty hunter I hired accomplished her task, though she perished in the attempt, I am told. The bounty remains unclaimed."

"And this is to end Jedi interference?" Rakka asked pointedly.

"Our ally within the New Republic reports the other Jedi do not know where their slain comrades had ventured," Tarcona stated cautiously; he felt himself on thin ice. "But what is the word of a traitor?"

"Or the word of an incompetent emissary?" Rakka asked snidely. He squinted to accentuate his next sentence. "Your Jedi live."

Tarcona felt the ground fall out beneath him. Panic. "Impossible, my lord. They perished in a thermal det-"

"Do not presume to tell me what happens on Nar Shaddaa!" Rakka bellowed as he lifted Orn Tarcona in the air via the Force. The majordomo gurgled in pain. "Did you think to hide the debacle at the starpad from my eyes? Your bounty hunter betrayed you, so I now am forced to employ my own."

Tarcona saw the ground rush up at him as he plummeted to the floor. A pair of worn leather boots was near his face. Struggling to regain his footing, Tarcona stood up and found himself face to face with a masked Kel Dor. "Shin Igami," the Twi'lek said with disgust. He looked toward Rakka. "You will pit Jedi against Jedi?"

"I do not number among them," Igami huffed through his antiox face mask.

"Oh, yes, you betrayed them, as you betrayed your Baran Do mentor," Tarcona exclaimed.

"The Jedi Heth is a fool, as was Master Zhen Jin before him," Igami retorted. "The Jedi and Baran Do will both go the way of the Black Sun."

Tarcona fumed. He turned again to Rakka. "My lord, do not employ this traitor!"

Rakka rewarded him with a Force slam to the ground. "Were it not for your loyal service and delicious underworld connections, you would be dead where you stand. Do not take my favor for granted, because it cannot be earned again if lost."

"Yes, my lord," Tarcona said as he knelt weakly, not bothering to stand.

"Shin Igami, I offer you any price you desire for the head of Mitth'eth'nuruodo and all who harbor him."

"I accept," said the Kel Dor. He turned around and left the court.

"As for you," Rakka said, turning to Tarcona. "See to my profits."

"Yes, Great and Terrible Rakka." Tarcona called for the assistance of his entourage. Despite his pain, he smiled for two reasons: He knew something that was worth Rakka sparing his life, and for some reason, the Hutt considered the Chiss Jedi a bad omen. Such information could prove useful, if necessary.

Name: Shin Igami

Race: Kel Dor

Gender: Male

Occupation: Bounty Hunter (formerly Jedi and Baran Do)

Age: 32

Homeworld: Dorian

[Vjun: Bast Castle: Sith Reliquary]

Surrounded by ancient Sith relics and assorted icons of technology, Darth Wraith awakened from his meditation. His Force-generated Doppleganger assault against the meddling Jedi and bounty hunter was foiled, and he took time to center himself. He looked at the bacta vat nearby, considering its treatment. In the end, he looked at his mutilated hand by which he had sworn an oath of treachery, and instead assumed the rustic throne in the dank depths of Darth Vader's former stronghold. His decrepit form sprawled itself on the throne, as if carried by a cloud. Once more, his attention was consumed by the knub on the end of his left arm. A short arc of lightning came from it, evoking a chortle from the Sith. Greater arcs followed, increasing in girth and intensity until the entire reliquary was filled with a Force Storm. And rising above it all was the enunciated cry, "Unlimited power!"


End file.
